


Nothing but a Dog

by Vennat



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Arthur - Freeform, Bullying, Camelot, Dark, Depressing, Gwen - Freeform, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Merlin - Freeform, Not a furry fic, Original Characters - Freeform, Poor Merlin, Sad, at the end of this it sounded like a furry fic, gaius - Freeform, its not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9238622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vennat/pseuds/Vennat
Summary: After being locked in the dog pens for a night by a few Knights who decided Merlin needed to 'learn his place', everything about Merlin is wrong. His demeanor, his physical capabilities, even his wit. Arthur is determined to find the root of the cause. Without ever letting Merlin know, of course. It just wouldn't do if Merlin knew he CARED, now would it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this was gonna be a one shot, but I started writing and there was just so much I could do with this, so now it's a multi shot. Please tell me if you see any grammar/spelling mistakes !

Sirs Alwin, Efric, and Olmin were sat around the round table, throwing barely-concealed looks of disgust at King Arthur as he spoke. They were outraged at the audacity of their King. A commoner for a wife, with a say in the proceedings of the kingdom. And, even more ludicrous, he often asked his servant for his input on matters. Sir Elfric spoke up, voicing the thoughts of the other man.

“My king,” he interrupted, and all eyes turned to him. “Is it really wise to trust… your wife in these matters? Even if she is queen now, she was nothing but a serving woman before that.”

At Sir Elfric’s words, Arthur practically fumed. While his wife, seated next to him, blushed darkly, as if mortified by the pointing out of her previous status. But there was also indignance on her features.

The King opened his mouth to argue, but surprisingly, someone else beat him to it. His manservant stepped up from behind him, anger clouding his face unlike any the Knight had ever seen.

“Who are you to talk about what say anyone has in any of the proceedings? You're only a Knight of Camelot because of your name. You only have a say in these proceedings because of a _name_. Guinevere has more of a place at this table then you do, she knows what it's like to have to _work_ for something, and she can give us input on the commoners. And she _cares_.”

He took a breath, looking as if he wanted to continue on his tirade, before the King placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned, startled, and looked sheepishly at his King.

“Sorry, Arthur. Got a bit carried away.” Arthur smiled kindly, and Elfric felt a surge of hate towards the manservant. Arthur’s gaze turned stony as he turned towards the offending Knight.

“Sir Elfric. Everyone at this table has a say. If I place them at this table, it is because I believe they have a reason to be here, and something to contribute.” He paused, and looked as if he was forcing himself to be calm.

“I suggest you take a few days break. And, if I dare make another suggestion,” his voice turned cold, “ _Never_ speak of my wife like that again. Understood?” Elfric nodded silently, fuming. He bowed stiffly at the waist, before turning and marching from the room with as much dignity as he could muster. 

                        ~|0|~

It's the end of the day, and Merlin can see his breath in the air. Arthur had given him a long list of chores that day, and Merlin was almost done, with just one chore left. Feeding the dogs, simple enough. He had walked them earlier, and he was sure that they would be eager for their evening meal.  
  
Outside the dog pen, Merlin was dividing the scraps and bits of meat evenly into the four bowls. The area was quiet, the sun setting behind him, it was peaceful. The quiet peace was shattered, however, when the clank of metal boots on the cobblestones echoed around Merlin.

Merlin turned, a greeting already on his lips, before he saw the men. Sirs Alwin, Olmin, and Elfric were strutting angrily towards him, and Merlin’s shoulders tensed in response.

“Hello,” he said, voice wavering. The leader Elfric grinned wolfishly.

“Why, Merlin! So funny, running into you here.” Merlin didn't think it was very funny. Elfric gestured with a few fingers, as if he didn't really care, and Olmin and Alwin surged forward. They each wrapped their hands around his arms, lifting him a few inches off the ground.

“What should we do with you, Little Merlin. All alone? No _Arthur_ to protect you?” The name was spat out like venom, Elfric’s face twisting in anger.

“Throw him in,” he said, after a minute of leering in close to Merlin’s face. Merlin, at this point terrified, spoke up.

“Wait!” The Knights hesitated for a second, and Elfric gestured with his hands for Merlin to hurry up.

“Don't throw me in there, Gaius will worry. Just… what do you want in return? I recognize the fact that you're not just gonna let me go, so what do you want?” The wolfish grin was back on Elfric’s face, and it sent a shiver down Merlin’s spine. He gestured offhandedly to the bowls sat behind Merlin.

“Wouldn't want you to go hungry little Merlin. Why, you're all skin and bones! Better eat something so you can grow big and strong.” He smirked, and Merlin felt his cheeks blaze red.

“The… the dog food?” God, he hoped he had misunderstood what Elfric was saying to him. Judging by the look on his features, he wasn't. His stomach dropped. The man took a step forward, leering into Merlin’s face.

"Get down, on your hands and knees.” He gestured, and Alwin and Olmin dropped him. He landed roughly, on his hands and knees like Elfric had demanded. Another flock of his fingers and Alain reached back, picking up a bowl and setting it down under Merlin's face. He gagged at the smell.

“Now eat it, like the little _bitch_ you are.” He laughed maliciously, and Merlin felt his heart stop. Pebbles bit into his palms, shaking him with a sudden realization. This was _happening_. It was real. He couldn't get out of this, couldn't use his magic. Three pairs of Camelotian eyes did not bode well for him if he used magic.

He was trapped.

“ _NOW!_ ” Elfric roared, and his boot kicked Merlin in the side of the head. He tipped over and hit the ground, ears ringing. He curled into a ball, hoping against all hope that if he tried hard enough he could block what was happening around him. A numbers of blows hit his back, the hard steel toe of a boot leaving a bruise every time it made contact with his back

He whimpered, quietly, scared that if anyone heard him it could put them in danger. A maidservant, who could also get hurt. It didn't even cross his mind to think to yell for the guards sure to be patrolling somewhere nearby, something he would berate himself heavily for later.

He took the hits for a few more moments before one of them grabbed him roughly under the shoulders. They pulled him upwards, a few centimeters from the rough cobblestones, and then dropped him. He landed on his hands and knees, once again facing the food sat on the ground beneath him. He did not gag this time, so tightly locked within himself, that he didn't even resist when one of them pushed his head down with their muddy boot.

His nose touched the wet of the dog food, and he opened his mouth, taking a bite. Inside him, somewhere deep within, a part of him was rebelling. Screaming, _thrashing_ around. His stomach twisted. His throat closed up.

But he still swallowed. And he sat for a moment, breathing heavily, and then moved his head back down when it was pushed. Opened his mouth. Grabbed some slop with his teeth. Chewed. Swallowed. Repeat.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Until they pressed his head down and he felt the rough grain of wood against his nose. And they pushed again. One of the Knight’s voices called out behind him, something his brain couldn't hope to understand. Hands reached again under his shoulders, lifting him effortlessly. They held him up, and he mustered up as much courage as he could, looking Elfric dead in the eyes. And the man smirked.

“Enjoy your meal, little doggie?” He reached a hand up, swiping at Merlin’s mouth, before reaching lower and wiping it on Merlin's shirt.

“Made a mess of yourself, have we?” He laughed coldly, “Well, nighty night little doggie!” He waved a hand sarcastically, before turning a snow walking him away.

“Throw him in, we’ll get him tomorrow morning, when he's good and rested, and he's learned his lesson.” His laugh tinkled like glass on a floor as tossed the words over his shoulder, walking lazily from the courtyard they were in.

Olmin and Alwin turned, Olmin heading forward to open the lock on the dog cages, Merlin had left the key on the feeding table earlier, and turned to Alwin. His voice was gruff and unsure when he spoke.

“Throw ‘im in.” He turned to look at Merlin, an almost-sort-of pity in his eyes. “Sorry, laddie.” Merlin huffed out a rough laugh. As if.

Alwin dragged him forward, pushing him into the dog pen. He could hear barking resounding all around him, and he fell to his knees. This time, hay digging into his palms.

The lock clicked outside the pen, and he slammed the his hands against the door.

“Wait!” He cried, voice hoarse. But he didn't even hear a hesitation in their retreating steps. After pounding on the wooden walls for several minutes, he gave up, turning around the go sit in the corner. The dogs had quieted now, and Merlin hoped that they would.

He was terrified that if someone found him, they'd leave him here. They'd look at him and say, _you deserve this. Haven't you learned your place yet? To the prince, you're nothing but a dog_.

Merlin scrambled back, gasping for air. The voice on his head so vivid he could hardly think. It- it had sounded like Arthur. Somewhere deep within him he knew Arthur didn't think that. But if everyone else did, who was he to say it wasn't true.

Gwen was probably tired of him, at this point. She was a queen now. She didn't have time for a stupid mutt like Merlin.

And Arthur.

He was _king_. He didn't have time for Merlin before, how on Earth could he now? God, no wonder he was always so annoyed with. Merlin always following him like a lost puppy, how could he stand it? How could anyone stand him?

After all, he was nothing but a dog. Made to eat their food and sleep in their pens.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is acting oddly, and his friends are noticing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me if you see any grammar or spelling errors. :) enjoy!

He woke up the next morning to the sound of the lock clicking outside the pens, and pounding feet reaching away from them. Merlin jumped up quickly, and shoved the door open, heaving in breaths of fresh air.

He once again replaced the lock on the door, and took in his surroundings. No one in sight, good. Faraway, he could hear the bustle of Camelot, very much awake. Even through the haze of leftover fear lingering within his mind, Merlin has only one thought. _I'm going to be late for Arthur._

Being late equals more chores, and after spending a night awake of the tough packed dirt of the dog pen, Merlin wasn't sure he'd be able to last a whole day slaving away at his chores. Hoping for the best, he set out at a painful run towards the castle kitchens.

                         ~|0|~

  
A tray filled to the brim with food carefully balanced in his hands, Merlin pushed the door to Arthur’s chambers open with his back, spinning and kicking it closed with his foot. He set the tray on the table, before turning to face Arthur in his bed. Arthur was sat up, glaring at Merlin.

“Sire!” He jumped, surprised to see the young king awake so early on his own. Arthur crossed his arms, and arched an eyebrow Gauis would be proud of.

“Sorry, sire. Pardon my, um, lateness.” He paused for a second, breathing fast. “I woke up late again. My apologies, your highness.” He bowed at the waist, face beet red as he looked at his toes. He held the position for several seconds, before straightening.

Arthur climbed from the bed, giving him a bewildered look. Merlin, ignoring the gaze, headed towards Arthur's wardrobe.

“Training first, sire?” He asked, politely as he could muster. Arthur looked at him strangely, but shook his head.

“Council meeting, then training. Did you finish editing that paperwork I gave you?” Merlin nodded silently. “Bring that to the council chambers, and attend the meeting with me.” Merlin nodded again, but knew Arthur was telling him, in less words, that Merlin couldn't be trusted to spend his time alone.

Merlin blushed again, embarrassed at the thought that Elfric was _right_. Arthur felt he couldn't even trust him to walk the castle himself, needing to be by Arthur's side to have a watch on him. _A little lost puppy_. He his his scowling face within the wardrobe, digging around within it until he resurfaced with Arthur's shirt and trousers.

He turned, setting the items on the bed, and looked at Arthur. Arthur stood, grabbing the clothes and heading behind the changing screen. Merlin grabbed the dishes off the table and left the room, the door clicking shut quietly behind him.

Merlin was practically running down the hall, the need to get far away from Arthur's room was strong. But the running re-awakened the soreness in his muscles, producing a twinge in his side. His steps faltered at the unexpected pain, and he tripped, sprawling to the floor.

The dishes in his grasp went flying, falling straight to the floor and splintering into hundreds of shards. Merlin stuck his hands out in front of him so his nose wouldn't smash straight into the floor, unfortunately shoving his palms harshly against the shards of glass. He cried out, snatching his hands back and pressing them against his chest for a moment. He let out a low hiss, and brought his hands closer to his face to inspect the damage.

A quick look showed several large pieces of glass in his palms, but luckily nothing too small. With deft fingers, Merlin pulled the glass from his hands, and set it on the tray. He pulled the edges of his sleeves over his hands, and quickly scooped the glass onto the tray. After successfully gathering all the glass, Merlin stood, and picked up the tray. He headed back to the kitchens, this time with much more caution in his steps.

After returning the still-whole dishes to the kitchen, and apologizing profusely for the mishap with those that were not, Merlin headed down to his and Gauis’ rooms. Half of him hoped Gauis was there to tend to his wounds, but the other half of him knew that Gaius would only need a singular look at him to know that something had happened to him the night before. The small, rational voice inside of him protested, telling him that his hands needed medical attention, something he would have to get from Gaius. He felt a small string of bitter disappointment in his guts, knowing he would have to lie to Gaius. The entire situation was mortifying, and something he would never tell anyone about.

Merlin pushed the thin wooden door to his and Gaius’ room open, poking his head in the door tentatively.

“Gaius?” There was no reply, so Merlin stepped inside. He saw a scrap of parchment on the table In Gaius’ usual scrawl, and Merlin stepped closer, picking it up.

_There is a small outbreak of a coughing sickness in a few of the outlying villages. I am going to treat those who are severely ill and teach a few villagers how to handle those who aren't as severely sickened. Stay safe while I'm gone and please take care of yourself._

Merlin set the note back on the table, and let out a shaky breath of relief. If Gaius wasn't prodding him with questions, Merlin could take this short reprieve in his small home to recover a bit. He slipped his jacket off, and rolled the sleeves up on his threadbare shirt.

He moved around the room, quickly collecting all the supplies he would need to clean his wounds. He sat heavily on the bench, picking up the antiseptic and rinsing his hands with it quickly over a bowl. The sting of it jarred him, making him feel more back to his senses, and he blew on his palms to dry them faster. After the had dried, he stood again and rolled down his sleeves. Slipping on his jacket, he left the room, barely remembering to grab the deliveries as he left.

                         ~|0|~

  
Merlin was just about done with his deliveries, and he knew he _really_ needed to hurry, judging by the sound of the noon bell reverberating through the citadel. Arthur was very upset this morning for no reason, and chances are, his mood hadn't improved throughout day. Merlin was sure being late with his lunch would _not_ help matters. Pocketing the other potions, Merlin swore to himself he would get to them after he delivered Arthur his lunch. Merlin set off at a run, ignoring the shaking and sore muscles of his back, to the kitchen. If he could hope to dodge even _most_ of Arthur's wrath, he would need to get to his rooms as quickly and possible.

On his way back from the kitchens, a tray of assorted breads, cheeses, and meats; Merlin runs into Percival and Gwaine. _Sirs Percival and Gwaine_ , he corrects himself silently. Gwaine, for once, looks surprisingly not hungover. Percival, as always, looks neat and put together. Gleaming armor, neatly pressed undercoats. _Probably has a manservant who can do his job without convincing himself he's friends with his master_. He thinks bitterly. Gwaine smiles at him almost dopily.

“Hey Merlin! On the way to feed the princess?” He makes an about face, and claps Merlin on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. _He pities you,_ a poisonous voice in his mind whispers. Merlin flinched back from Gwaine’s hand. The smile drops from the drunkards features.

“What's wrong, Merlin?” Surprisingly, it's Percival who speaks up. His voice is gentle, and Gwaine takes a step back, nodding his head in agreement with his companions statement. Merlin almost broke down, told them what happened. But he steeled himself, choosing instead to look down at his dusty boots.

“Nothing, Sirs. Is there anything I can help you with?” Merlin’s reply was met with silence, so he snuck a glance at his companions from under the shag of hair clouding his eyes. He was met with twin looks of shock, eyes wide and looking on the verge of being outraged. He was quick to lower his head once more.

“Well, if that will be all.” Merlin lifted his head again, and stepped around the two nights practically frozen in shock in the middle of the corridor. Merlin was seeing the beginnings of concern creep onto their features, and decided it was time he hightailed it out of there.

Merlin managed to get to Arthur's quarters at, what he estimated, about half after the noon bell. He was pretty proud of himself, sure that Arthur couldn't be angry he'd arrived on _time_. With his lunch. He pushed the door open.

The room was a _disaster_. And at the sight of it, he knew that Arthur must have been absolutely, ridiculously, over the top, behind imagination, _furious_. Merlin took a cautious step inside the room.

“ _You!_ ” Merlin jumped back in fright, head managing to somehow smack into the wall. He winced, but dared not say anything as Arthur stalked towards him. The king pointed with a shaking hand at the tray, then again at the table, nonverbally signaling for Merlin to set Arthur's lunch where it belonged. Merlin flinched imperceptibly, before doing as was asked.

“Where were you at the council meeting today?” Arthur's voice was deadly calm, and Merlin's guts twisted into a bunch.

“G-Gaius isn't here and… I had to make his deliveries, Sire.” Arthur's face twisted into a look of bitter acknowledgement, but he nodded his head tersely. Merlin's breath rushed from his lips in relief.

“Well, I still expect you to attend to your duties here.” He gestured flippantly at his desk, where a list of chores was waiting for Merlin. He walked over to his seat at the head of the small table, taking a seat in front of his food.

“I expect it all tonight, especially walking the dogs! They've been cooped in their cages for days and they would be thrilled to go on a walk. Which you will take them on, tonight.” A look of horror dawned across Merlin's features, but he shoved it back deep inside him and smoothed the features of his face once more.

“I will be back for your dishes and to tidy up in here later, my Lord.” Merlin bowed at the waist, missing the disconcerted look on Arthur's features, and dashed from the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? I really like writing this fic so I hope you did. A bit shorter than I would've liked, but I've got to have somewhere to cut this off. New chapter soon hopefully becaude I'm practically bursting with ideas for this story. I also just updated my Harry Potter fic, Tremors. It'd be great if you'd go check it out.


	3. chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin returns to the place where everything went down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is soooo late. this chapter was originally longer but i realized its been too long since i updated, so i cut itoff at a point where itll make snese. another short chapter acTUALLY soon after this, and then back to longer pieces :)

Merlin had finished the many, many chores Arthur had given him that day, and was headed down to the dog pens. His mind was spinning, and he was barely able to focus on walking in a straight line. Eventually he managed to reach the pens, but the trip there included a lot of tripping over nothing and bumping into surrounding people and walls. A few had called out after him, concerned at his airy behavior, but most let him be, sparing him only a concerned glance. 

He picked the dog bowls up from where they were settled in a neat stack. His fingers ran over the smooth wooden grain of the bowls, and he felt bile rise in the back of his throat. He hadn't eaten since, well, he ate the dog food last night. He had thrown up after the Knights had left, retching quietly in the corner. He did once again, near the corner of the pen. He choked and coughed, sputtering as the nonexistent contents of his stomach emptied themselves on the flagstones. 

He stood again, wiping his mouth on the corner of his sleeve. His hands shake as he picks up the bowls from where they clattered to the ground. He heaves a large breath in, holding it and focusing on the pain of his swollen lungs pushing against bruised ribs. A harsh cough follows the outward rush of air, and Merlin gently wraps his arm around his stomach, a grimace inset on his features. 

Straightening, Merlin strode quickly to the side of the dog pin, where buckets of various scraps rested. Swallowing hard against the nausea climbing up his throat, pushing it deep down. Filling the bowls with random heaps of scrap foods and meats, Merlin steadied the bowls on his arms, pointedly looking anywhere but the objects in his hands. He was breathing heavily through his mouth to avoid the smell, and quick as he could, he slipped the bowls into the pen. The door shut again with a click, one that made his stomach turn in reminder. 

Merlin’s knees felt weak, and they buckled beneath him. His back slid down the rough wooden planks of the dog pen. He tucked his knees in tightly to his chest, arms wrapped around tightly to press his legs hard to his sternum. His forehead touched his knees, and a quiet sob broke from his throat before a hand could clamp over his mouth. His shoulders shook silently, as he encased any sound he might make with a hand pressed tightly to his lips. 

In a few moments, Merlin had composed himself. (Composure is a word used lightly, it might be more correct to say that Merlin was now too terrified of what could happen to him in the dark, to stay out there anymore.) He stood on shaking legs, stumbling away from the scene of a crime, in which he was the victim. He would need to help Arthur to bed before he could even hope of returning to his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me if you saw any grammar or spelling errors :) drop a comment if youd like


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine and Percival see something that Merlin did NOT want them to see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please notify me of any grammar or spelling errors :)

Gwaine and Percival’s concern for Merlin had not eased after he walked away. If anything, it had increased as they saw him try and stifle the limp in his step. As knights, they were accustomed to injuries and noticing them in colleagues too proud to mention them. And being the nosey, yet concerned, friends that they were, Percival and Gwaine had followed Merlin down to the dog pens.

They watched on in confused as he seemed to unconsciously recoil from the wooden bowls the dogs ate from. Once he had actually grabbed them, his face looked a little greener, and his hands shook a bit harder. So hard in fact, that Percival and Gwaine could hear the clacking of wood-on-wood across the small distance between them and their friend.

Gwaine’s brow furrowed in confusion, and his mouth opened to quietly comment to his companion, before he heard a wrenching noise. He turned his head, and saw Merlin on his hands and knees, spewing bile from between his lips. Gwaine’s lips twisted into a sympathetic grimace, knowing exactly how that felt after a few too many.

Gwaine’s lips set into a concerned frown, however, when he saw his friend heave in an obviously painful breath, before releasing it and climbing gingerly to his feet.

Merlin slipped his finger around the edges of the bowls as he stood, and Gwaine and Percival watched as he quickly shoveled various scraps into the bowls, before tossing the bowls into the pens as if they were actually hurting him. Immediately, his legs looked as if they might give out on him, and he slumped against the side of the pens, before seemingly crumpling to the floor, where he sat bent over his knees for several minutes. His shoulder were shaking, but it was imperceptible to the two knights looking on with a sense of mounting confusion and worry.

After the short span of minutes he was on the ground, Merlin stood, stumbling off into the night, and out of sight of the two knights watching. As soon as Gwaine was sure Merlin was out of earshot, he whipped violently in the direction of his companion.

“What was that! Why is he _injured_! Did Arthur do something to him?” Gwaine’s expression was one of immense fury, barely contained in him.

“No. Not Arthur. He would never do that to Merlin.” Percival answered immediately, not even needing a moment's consideration in his answer. As much as Arthur liked to pretend, everyone who knew they two knew they were best friends, and held a great amount of respect for each other. At his reply, Gwaine’s face smoothed some, and he looked less inclined to murder a monarch.

“What do we do?” At this, Perceval did pause.

“For now, we wait.” Gwaine’s face, once more, twisted in anger. Percival held up a hand.

“We _wait_.” He paused, waiting for an interruption that didn't come. “And we watch. We see who else is watching Merlin. We see who is talking to Merlin that doesn't normally. We’ll see who's harassing Merlin, and then we’ll take care of it.” Gwaine paused, considering, before nodding sharply. Percival smiled tightly at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: haha here's a short tid bit to hold you off ! New chapter soon!   
> me:*is not heard of for 21 days*   
> IM SO SORRY but. Next chapter tonight. And it'll be full sized. I'm so SOrrY. Thanks for sticking with me if you're still here tho !!!!!!!


	5. chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is, surprisingly, more observant than a brick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes !

Merlin woke early the next morning, groaning awake from his slumped position. Confusion filled him as he stretched out the crick in his neck, wondering _where_ he was. It took a moment for it to click, before realizing he was in the weapons room. A blurry memory of falling asleep midway through cleaning Arthur’s armor surfaced.

Merlin looked around, trying to see if it was too early to be awake or not, before jolting harshly from his seat on the bench, landing on the ground. Next to the doorway, a shadowy figure stood. From the ground, Merlin took another look, and saw that it was just a rack full of armor. Not Alwin. Not Efric. Not Olmin. His breath rushed from him in a puff of relief. That is, before he realized he was late for Arthur’s breakfast.

                       ~|0|~  
Merlin rushed into Arthur's room, breakfast careening precariously towards the edge of the tray as he slid the tray onto the table quickly, before rushing forward to fling open the curtains.

“Up! Let's go! You're going to be late for training!” Merlin was yelling at Arthur, swiftly yanking his blanket from his slumbering form before sweeping towards the wardrobe, opening it and bringing out Arthur's breeches and undercoat, laying them over a chair, next to another that held his armor.

Merlin grabbed Arthur's clothes basket from the corner, sweeping around the room quickly and gathering all the dirty garments from around and tossing them inside.

By the time Arthur had rolled out of his bed, the door was slamming behind Merlin, and Arthur frowned in confusion, before sitting down to eat his breakfast quietly.

When Arthur was finished with his breakfast, he dressed in his underclothes. Arthur then stared at his pile of armor with confusion and mounting irritation. Before he could bellow for his bumbling manservant to come put his armor on him, Merlin tumbled through the doorway. Closing the door behind him, Merlin walked toward him and the pile of armor, picking up the first piece.

Merlin dressed Arthur in silence, much to the man's confusion. There wasn't a single joke about his weight, or about his inability to dress himself, _nothing_. Arthur frowned.

“Why are you so quiet?” Merlin jumped backwards a bit, apparently so focused in his work that Arthur's words surprised him.

“No reason, Sire.” Arthur's frown deepened.

“Merlin…” before Arthur could continue with his questioning, Merlin was handing him his sword, mumbling something about deliveries and meeting him later, before dashing out the door.

Arthur sighed. Something was going on with Merlin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every damn time I say I'm gonna post at a specific time shit happens. So no more promises of posting, but I swear on my toes that posts will be coming more regularly now that school is ending.


	6. chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, Gwaine, and Percival realize they're all running on the same wavelength. And somehow, things get worse for Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon that Arthur has given Merlin basic training with a sword, about the same level as a beginner knight. Merlin gets practice when he works with the Knights and he helps himself in some unobtrusive ways with his magic. I also believe that Arthur would still allow noblemans sons to be Knights (like Leon) if they can prove themselves worthy and pass the same training as any other knight to be, and not be an insensitive classist arsehole. Happy reading!

Arthur didn't see Merlin again until he was at the training fields. Merlin was walking quickly towards the fields, a few minutes after practice had begun. There was a flush high on his cheeks, a somewhat glossy and shocked look to his eyes, now that Arthur had a good look at him. Arthur's guy twisted with worry, but he tried to push it down when Merlin tried for a jaunty wave and jogged to him.

“Merlin, you're late. Where were you?” Arthur tried for a stern tone, but even he could hear the worry edging into his own voice. Merlin gave him a weak smile.

“Told you, errands for Gaius, Sire.” Arthur frowned at the formality, but didn't say anything, and instead gestured towards the wooden practice sword, much like the ones each knight had in their possession. Merlin stepped over to it quickly, scooping it off the ground, before stepping towards the small ring of knights out at the training field. Arthur spoke up once he was standing in his place.

“Today, you will each practice your sword skills with Merlin. Merlin is not a knight. Merlin is not skilled with the sword.” Arthur let a smirk grace his lips. “But, really, neither are you.” He heard several of his trusted knights chuckle behind him, and he was silent for a moment as he let the trainees stew in the barb. He hoped their anger would make them clumsy, so that he could use it against them in his likely-reprimand of their skills afterwards.

“Now, who will go first?” He did not have to wait long before a surly group of knights stepped forwards. Jostling between the three of them, it was only a moment before one of them finally stepped forward. His arrogant smirk was visible from halfway across the training fields.

“Ready?” He bellowed. There was a nod of assent from both Merlin and the arrogant knight. The Knights surrounding them backed up a few paces, and he could still see the smug knight’s two companions snickering towards the front of the crowd.

“Begin!” The knight immediately lunged for Merlin, who parried in reply, successfully avoiding a knock to the head. Arthur allowed himself a small, satisfied smile in response.

The fight went well, Merlin successfully avoiding hits, for the most part, and returning them just as evenly as he was given. Actually, it looked like Merlin would would this one. Before some of the Knights in the crowd started _barking_. Arthur was too stunned to do anything about it, but he could see Merlin immediately freeze up. Which was, ultimately, his downfall.

The cocky knight had gone for a bold, and foolish, overhead strike, comin at Merlin with his body in the full force of his swing. Merlin immediately saw his opportunity, leaning to one side to avoid the strike and prepare for a hard strike across the knight’s middle that would win him the fight. But that was around the time the nights began to bark, causing Merlin to freeze, and falter in his definitive stroke. Arthur saw a smug sneer on the Knights lips, before he twisted his wooden sword mid-air and hit Merlin in the space between the neck and shoulder, full force.

Before Arthur could even blink, the knight had Merlin pinned to the ground with a knee to the chest, leaning into his ear and whispering something. As fast as Arthur was walking towards his manservant, he couldn't hear a word that the arrogant man whispered into his ear. From the flush that ignited on Merlin’s ears and the way his fists clenched, he knew it was not anything he would have been happy to hear. A moment after, he slipped off Merlin and swaggered towards his friends, laughing loudly in the silence that reigned on the field amid the confusion. They began to strut off the field, and enough fury rose up within Arthur to snap him out of his stupor.

“You! Where do you think you're going! Training is not over.” Arthur yelled. The trio turned around, the leader pushing past the other two towards the front of their small bunch.

“Of course, Your Highness. I just assumed, since this was a mock battle, that once I had defeated the enemy I may be free to go.” He smiled again, going for a kind look, but Arthur could see the cunning gleam in his eyes.

“You didn't defeat Merlin, you simply used trickery and distraction to make him lose focus, because it was so obvious he was about to beat you. What does it really say of your skill if a mere servant can beat you?” The man spluttered, face turning an indignant red. Arthur gave a sharp nod at him. “Your name?” He inquired.

“Olmin.” The man had an upturned and haughty nose, showing him as an obvious Son-of-a-Nobleman. Arthur could feel his distaste grow when he noticed the man’s company, Alwin, and another knight he didn't know, flanking him.

“Olmin, you're dismissed. Alwin, I told you that I did not wish you to be anywhere for the next few days. Do not make me have you removed.” He fit each knight with a heavy glare, before turning his back to them and allowing them to leave. He started towards Merlin, who had Gwaine and Percival hoisting him from the ground and sweeping dust off of his rigid limbs.

When he reached them, he spoke. “Merlin? What was that, what did he say to you?” Merlin shrugged in a noncommittally, looking over Arthur’s shoulder rather than meeting his eyes. He pried his limbs from Gwaine and Percival’s clutches, taking a step back from them. Now a few paces away, he swept his hands behind his back and clenched them inside of each other. Every portion of stance screamed of how uncomfortable he was with the situation.

“Nothing, Sires. No need to worry about me.” He bent over, collecting the dusty practice sword. “I can return to training if you wish?” Arthur had to actively work to keep his jaw from slipping open. Merlin was _asking_ to get back to work. He looked over to Gwaine and Percival and saw the same surprise mirrored on their features.

  
“Merlin, are you hurt?” Arthur saw the flicker of surprise, now on Merlin’s face, when Percival spoke. Merlin was quick to object.

“No, no! Per- Sire. Please. I'm fine, please let me just get back to work.”

“Merlin, go get yourself checked out by Gaius. If anything it will make _me_ feel better.” Merlin looked at Gwaine for a fraction of a second, before directing his gaze back to the ground.

“Merlin, that was quite a hit to the shoulder you took.” Merlin’s hand shot up to cover the red mark on his neck, as if he was trying to shield it from Arthur. “Merlin. _Please_.” Merlin visibly sagged at that. He nodded his head once. No arguments. No barbs. He just nodded, turned around, and began his trek towards Gaius’ chambers. Halfway there, Merlin paused to set down his wooden training sword on the ground with the rest of the pile, and yet silence still reigned over the field, all eyes following the form of his manservant.

Arthur forced down the growing pile of sour feelings in his gut, and turned to his Knights-to-be.

“Move it, move it! This isn't a show! Get started on your movement drills, _now_!”

———————————

Arthur didn't know Gaius had left, apparently, and Merlin was not going to correct him. He figured Gaius had not told anyone except Merlin, for the matter was of great urgency. Merlin would use this to his full advantage, and allow himself another short respite while he could manage it.

He made his way towards a staircase he knew wasn't much used until after training, when all the knights would return to their rooms to clean up. Merlin would be long gone by then, likely in the laundry room scrubbing Arthur's clothes by then. He climbed about halfway up, just out of immediate sight line, and settled onto the stone stair. Hard as it was, it felt heavenly on his worn and weary body. He couldn't help but release a loud sigh of relief in response.

“You hear that?” One minute. That was all Merlin wanted. Just _one minute_ of rest. Instead, Olmin and Alwin were heading up the steps in his direction, twin vile smirks on their faces. Merlin sat up straighter, hands braced against the walls, and got ready to bolt. They started climbing the stairs faster, and reached him before he could do much more than heave himself up and turn the other direction. Hands seized his forearms, and he wrenched hard against them. He could feel a terrified scream building in his throat, but did his best not to release it.

“Hey, little doggy! Funny seeing you here! Did you beg your little king to give you a break?” Alwin made an over exaggerated pout at him, but Merlin could see the devilish glint in his eyes.

“Little puppy wanted to see his Masters, wanted to beg for scraps.” The two began the laugh again. They seized Merlin by the arms again, and dragged him up the stairs, knees and shins hitting painfully against every stair. Merlin grimaced, but clamped his jaw shut, refusing to beg to be released.

  
It wasn't long before they arrived into the hallway where knight’s quarters were kept. They kept dragging him, all the way down the hall towards, what Merlin assumed, their own quarters.

Olmin took one of his hands from Merlin, reaching towards the handle to open the door. Merlin took this opportunity to shake himself as violently as he could, wrenching harshly to get himself away from his captors. All he managed was to wrench his shoulder, and he let out a harsh yell as he felt it pop from it’s socket. Alwin slapped him, hard, across the face, and he was fairly sure he saw stars.

“ _Shut_. _Up_.” They each pulled hard on his arms, and he managed to clamp down on the scream at the last second. Distracted by his pain, he was unable to make another desperate scrabble at freedom as Olmin once again reached up and opened the door. Together, the two pulled him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me in the last chap: yeah so school's ending so more chapters!!
> 
> Me: -writes three other focs over the summer but forgets bout this one-
> 
> Yeah. So. Sorry about that. Next chapnis already half written so it will NOT be another 3 months before the next one. Please notify me of any spelling or grammatical errors, and plot holes and confusing things. Comments and kudos make my life :)

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter @mulderonthemoon ! Come say hi!


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